


The Dick Fic

by soufflegirl91



Series: Souffle's 007 Fest 2020 Fancreations [39]
Category: James Bond (Craig movies)
Genre: Bond and Q don't actually get together but they will eventually, Bond is a bit of a troll, Bond likes buying inappropriate gifts, Gen, Humour, Lots of dick jokes, a bit cracky, it's pretty obvious to everyone
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-25
Updated: 2020-07-28
Packaged: 2021-03-05 23:27:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 2,946
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25503640
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/soufflegirl91/pseuds/soufflegirl91
Summary: Bond has a bad habit: bringing back inappropriately suggestive souvenirs from his trips. For everyone.
Relationships: Pre-James Bond/Q - Relationship
Series: Souffle's 007 Fest 2020 Fancreations [39]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1809892
Comments: 32
Kudos: 123
Collections: 007 Fest Fancreations





	1. Moneypenny

**Author's Note:**

  * For [christinefromsherwood](https://archiveofourown.org/users/christinefromsherwood/gifts).



> For the 2017 Fest Anon Prompt "Bond has a bad habit: bringing back inappropriately suggestive souvenirs from his trips. For everyone."
> 
> Thank you as always to Christine for beta-ing this fic waaaayyy back when I wrote it in... May? I hope you still find it funny after all this time.
> 
> Originally, this fic was going to have a different title, but we just kept referring to it as The Dick Fic and then nothing else felt right. So, without further ado, I present: The Dick Fic

“Do you think he  _ noticed _ ?”

“He  _ bought _ the bloody thing, how could he  _ not _ have noticed?” 

Q and Eve stared at the  _ thing _ in fascinated bewilderment. There it was, sitting innocently on Eve’s desk when she and Q returned from lunch. Conveniently, the not-so-mysterious gift giver had finished up his debrief with M and disappeared off to wherever he went when he was off duty. 

“Maybe it’s a  _ joke _ ?”

Eve turned to Q, raising an incredulous eyebrow. 

“Does he  _ have _ a sense of humour?”

“Oh come on, Eve,” Q retorted, “you’ve heard his pickup lines. I don’t believe for a second that man isn’t the world’s biggest troll, deep down.” 

_ “Very _ deep down,” Eve snorted into her tea. 

“Underneath the icy eyes and heartless killer persona is a clown just waiting to come out,” Q said knowingly. “God knows he has the ears for it, already.” 

“Careful, Quartermaster.” Eve prodded him in the ribs, which,  _ ow! _ “If you keep pointing out Bond’s body parts,anyone would think you had a crush.” 

“I do  _ not! _ I know where he’s  _ been _ ,” Q flushed, indignant, because even if he  _ did _ have the occasional daydream… or night dream… or  _ wet _ dream… about Bond, he would never act on it! That would be… unprofessional. “What the hell is it, anyway?!” 

“Some kind of fertility god, maybe? Cheap tourist tat, whatever it is. Honestly, where does he even  _ look _ for these things?!”

The pair stared at the statuette for a moment longer. It was only about six inches high, clearly a replica of a much larger artefact. The thing’s - Q considered how to word it delicately -  _ phallus _ was at least half of its height. He dreaded to think what the original looked like.

“What on  _ earth _ is that?” 

Q jumped, because he had been so distracted by the statuette’s unbelievable proportions that he hadn’t noticed M coming in through the open door. Eve, because Eve was  _ always bloody perfect _ , wasn’t ruffled in the slightest.

“007’s latest souvenir, sir.”

“Oh for the love of…” M broke off, running an exasperated hand through his thinning hair. “Just make sure you hide the bloody thing next time the Foreign Secretary visits. Last time,  _ I _ had to explain to him why Tanner has a dildo magnet from the bloody Amsterdam Sexmuseum.”

“And what  _ did _ you tell him, sir?” Q hadn’t heard this story before, and was curious.

“I told him it was from his bloody stag do.”

“But Bill’s not married.”

“Yes, well I wasn’t going to tell him that our best but most exasperating double-oh has a penchant for inappropriate mission souvenirs, now, was I?!” 

Well. That was a fair point.

“Come along, Quartermaster. If you’re here already, we might as well go through the next batch of mission objectives.”


	2. Mallory

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapters 1-3 are quite short, chapter 4 is the longest. Because Fest and splitting things up for more points :D

“Ah, Q, come in. Take a seat.” 

Q did as he was told, feeling as ever that being summoned to M’s office was like being sent to see the headteacher. As he settled into the chair, however, he noticed something on M’s desk that he most definitely would  _ not _ expect from a headteacher.

“Bond got to you, too, did he, sir?”

“Hmmm?” Mallory glanced up from the file, eyes flickering to his new paperweight. “Ah. Yes. Just this morning, actually. I haven’t had a chance to ‘conveniently lose’ the bloody thing, yet.” 

“Oh, I don’t know about that, sir. I’m sure the Foreign Secretary would  _ love  _ it. It’s very… avant-garde.”

They both looked at the blue and green swirled glass for a moment. Really, whoever the glassblower was, they were  _ very _ talented. It took a lot of effort to make something so phallic look so… artistic. 

“I’m sure the foreign secretary would have much preferred it to be an ‘artistic’ pair of tits instead of a bloody cock and balls.”

Q spluttered, blinking at his superior. It really shouldn’t have surprised him, M had probably the worst swearing habit of anyone in MI6. So had the previous M, actually. Maybe it came with the territory. 

“Still, it might be worth it to see the look on his face. Bloody Bond thinks he’s being funny. God only knows why.” 

M gave Q a considering look, as if he thought that Q had  _ any _ sort of insider knowledge of James Bond’s sense of humour. Q shrugged, as much at a loss as his boss. 

“Who knows what goes on inside Bond’s head, sir? One too many concussions, if you ask me." Q smiled to himself. "Maybe he’s not getting any these days and feels the need to overcompensate.”

M just hummed in obvious disbelief.

“You don’t have one yet?”

“It’s only a matter of time, I’m sure. Though I dread to think what he’ll think to buy for  _ me. _ ”


	3. Q

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *high fives Lene3161 for their detective work*

_ "007, I thought I told you to go left?" _

_ "You did, but I found something interesting over here. Could be a lead." _

_ "Something interesti- oh, for god's sake, Bond!" _

_ "She was with our mark last night. She might know something." _

_ "You really are a prick, sometimes, do you know that?" _

-

Q stared. 

He blinked.

He stared a bit longer. 

“Q? What’s wro-?  _ Oh. _ ” As always, it appeared that Eve had  _ impeccable _ timing. “I thought he got in last night?” 

“He  _ did _ . I was on comms with 003, though. R took his kit, he must have slipped into the office on his way out. I only locked my laptop up before I left, I didn’t look at the desk.” 

“Well, it’s… certainly  _ different, _ ” Moneypenny chuckled, as if ‘different’ didn’t mean ‘an absolute fucking  _ abomination. _ ’

It was… well,  _ creatively _ , you could call it a mug. Though it didn’t look very practical to drink out of. The actual  _ mug _ part of it wasn’t too objectionable, aside from being an ugly shade of beige. The handle, though… the  _ handle! _

The handle was a cock and balls.

There was no way of sugar coating it. No pretending it was something else that only  _ looked _ like a cock and balls if you glanced at it the wrong way. There was  _ shading _ . And  _ contours. _ And  _ veins. _

“Oh,  _ god, _ ” moaned Q, “do you think anyone saw it? What if R dropped some paperwork off? Fuck, what if  _ M-?!” _

“Q, darling, calm down before you have a stroke.” Moneypenny, the  _ evil, evil woman _ , was laughing at him. How  _ could _ she?! “First of all, R knows you well enough to know that’s not exactly something you would buy for yourself. Secondly, M would know exactly where it came from. You’re forgetting that Bond already gifted Mallory with a cock of his own.” 

Oh, right. There was that. 

“Do you think he expects me to drink out of it?” Because that idea was… disturbing. On  _ so many _ levels. 

“I think he expects you to throw it at the wall and shatter it into a million pieces before anyone notices it,” Moneypenny replied succinctly, “and if you were to actually drink out of it in his presence, you’d probably give him a heart attack. He  _ is _ getting on a bit, you know. His heart has taken lots of strain over the years. You might tip him over the edge.” 

Q frowned at her, slightly disconcerted by the note of glee in her voice.

“You know, you aren’t supposed to condone causing harm to our own agents. Even if you  _ did _ already shoot him.” 

That got him a sharp elbow to the ribs that he really should have anticipated. But he hadn’t, and it  _ hurt _ , damnit! 

“Ow!” He rubbed the spot where she had so rudely attacked him, pouting as she only laughed at him again. “Why do you think he’s  _ really  _ doing it? Aside from being a troll, I mean.”

“I have no idea,” Moneypenny replied. “But whatever his reasons, he made Bill  _ laugh _ , and he hasn’t done that enough since the old M…” she broke off, looking thoughtful now. “And god knows  _ you _ take yourself too seriously, sometimes.”

“I do not!” He slapped her lightly on the arm, indignant.

“Not exactly helping your case, darling,” she smirked. “Nope, I have no idea why he’s doing it. It’s a shame his birthday isn’t until November, though.” 


	4. Bond

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The tables are turned

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, this chapter is probably longer than the rest of the fic combined, why do you ask?

“Hnnnnggghhh” 

Q looked up from his tablet and took a sip of tea. 

“Oh good, you’re awake,” he said, feigning his usual dry indifference. Because it had been _hours_ , and even though he’d read Bond’s medical file _and_ interrogated Dr Wright, he had been starting to worry that Bond might not _actually_ be ok. And that was _not acceptable._ “Took you long enough.”

“Wh’r’m I? W’time’s it?” 

“You’re in Medical. It’s arse o’clock in the morning.” He glanced at his watch. “Three twenty-seven in fact. Honestly, Bond, only you would manage not to get injured _falling out of an exploding building_ , but somehow manage to get stabbed by a _hairpin_ and suffer severe blood loss. Where do you even _find_ these women?!”

“If I remember rightly, this one found _me_ .” Bond sat up in the bed with a groan, and Q tried very hard _not_ to imagine the other noises he might make in bed. Bad enough that he occasionally had to listen over the comms. “Any lasting damage?”

“No, you’ll be fine. You probably won’t even have another scar to explain away.” 

“Shame. I’ll have to keep that cover story for another time, then…. Are you using the mug I gave you?" 

Q took another sip, very much _not_ self-conscious, thank you very much. Bond had _purchased_ the bloody thing, Q had no reason to be embarrassed about using it in front of him. That was the whole reason he had picked it up from its hiding place on the way to Medical.

"Hmmm," he replied, as if there was nothing at all out of the ordinary about drinking from a penis mug in a government building. "It holds just the right amount of tea."

Bond's blue eyes flashed in clear amusement as he grinned smugly, only to morph into a confused frown when he caught sight of his bedside table.

"What are these?” Bond gestured to a small group of gift-wrapped presents. “Unless I’ve been asleep for a _very_ long time, I’ve not missed my birthday.” 

“Gifts from your well-wishers.” Q’s lips quirked in a smile as he pointed at each gift in turn. “Bill, Eve, M, and that one’s from me.”

“Should I be worried?” 

“The only way to find _that_ out is to open them,” Q chuckled, nudging Bill’s gift towards him. 

Bond narrowed his eyes at him, but Q just grinned and leaned back in his uncomfortable chair, ready to enjoy the unwrapping. Bond tore the paper with no attempt at neatness, pulling it away and giving a startled, but _pleased_ , laugh. 

“Penis pasta!” He crowed, delighted. “Oh, can you _imagine_ straight-as-a-ruler Bill Tanner buying _this!_ Tell me you can find the CCTV footage.” 

Q chuckled, shaking his head. 

“You’re getting slow in your old age,” he prodded Bond lightly in the thigh, “there’s no way he bought that in person. Amazon does same day delivery now, you know.” 

“I didn’t even know they _made_ this! It’s brilliant!” 

Bond was still laughing, so much so that Q began to worry about the strengths of whatever drugs Medical had pumped into him. It was only _pasta,_ after all! If he thought _this_ was so funny, the other gifts might end up giving him that heart attack Eve had joked about. But laughter suited him. Shaped the lines on his face differently, in a way that looked less gruff but just as handsome. 

And the way his ears twitched was _adorable._

“This...is… what the hell is this?” Bond picked up a squidgy, flesh-coloured ball out of the gift box from Eve, turning it over in his hands and promptly blinking in surprise. 

“I think that’s a stress ball… or, well, stress _balls_ ,” Q snickered at his own joke, nodding at the box which proudly read _Stressticles: Ball-busting stress-relief!_

Bond gave the ball - _balls_ \- an experimental squeeze. They squeaked. He then proceeded to lob them lightly at Q’s head. The Quartermaster caught them with a laugh, tossing them gently back at him, careful not to actually _hit_ his healing agent. 

“Next time M threatens my bollocks, I can just give him these,” Bond grinned impishly, prompting Q to roll his eyes with a groan.

“You are awful. Truly terrible. I don’t know why we put up with you.” 

“You mean it isn’t because of my charming wit and prowess in the field?”

“You mean your penchant for penis souvenirs and unsurpassed ability to break your kit? No.”

“Shame.”

“Stop sulking, it doesn’t suit you. Open M’s next, I want to see what he got you.” 

Q slid the slim envelope across the table. Whatever was in there, it wasn’t very bulky. Their boss had a wicked sense of humour, on the rare occasions he deigned to show it, so Q was intrigued. He watched as Bond slipped his thumb under the flap and pulled out two slim pieces of card. 

Bond blinked. And _snorted._

James Bond, snorting. Would wonders never cease?!

The snorting led to a full-blown belly laugh, which eventually trailed off into a chortle. All the while, Q sat there, entirely bemused by the whole display. Whatever M’s gift was, it had clearly tickled Bond.

“So, Q, what do you say to a trip to Iceland?” 

_What?_

“What? Iceland? _Why?_ ”

Bond opened his mouth, presumably to explain his ridiculous request, only to start laughing again. This process repeated itself a couple of times, to the point where Q was seriously considering just reaching over and tearing the mysterious slips of paper from Bond’s hand, when he finally succeeded in getting some words out. Up to a point.

“M bought me two tickets for the- the- Icelandic Phallo- Phallological Museum!” 

The last few words were garbled together as Bond started laughing _again._ Seriously, did they have him on Nitrous Oxide? Q would have noticed that in his medical file! He replayed Bond’s words in his head, trying to make sense of why a _museum_ would be so funny. 

Oh.

_Oh._

“The Reykjavik _dick museum?!_ ” 

Bond nodded, wiping tears of laughter from his eyes.

What was M _thinking_ ?! Letting Bond loose in a place like that. Just _imagine_ all the souvenirs he might bring back!

“So, what do you think? You must be overdue for a holiday.”

"Ask me again when you've been discharged," Q retorted dryly, firmly deciding not to touch _that_ idea with a ten-foot barge pole right now.

"That's not a 'no'," Bond smirked, using that tone of voice that always somehow managed to make previously sane-seeming women simper. 

"It's not a 'yes', either, so don't try that tone with me or I'll give them another reason to keep you in Medical." 

"Duly noted, Quartermaster." 

Bond reached at last for Q’s gift, but Q kept hold of it. 

“You only get this one if you tell me why you’ve been doing it.” 

"Doing what?" 

"Don't try the innocent act on me, James Bond, I listen in on your missions. I know exactly how innocent you _aren't._ Why have you been buying inappropriate souvenirs for your work colleagues lately?"

Bond leaned back against the pillow, giving Q a thoughtful look. His fingers tapped on the bedside table in a manner that Q would have called nervous if he didn't know any better.

His bloody agent was _stalling_.

"Bond…"

"They're an… apology, of sorts."

Well, that made the kind of sense that… didn't.

"I'm sorry, _what_ ? You've been buying people _penis souvenirs_ as an apology? _How_ does that make sense, exactly?"

"Well, part apology, part reminder."

"What, that you're a _dick_?"

Bond huffed out a laugh, not quite meeting Q's eyes.

Oh.

 _Oh_.

"Did you really buy me a penis mug because I called you a prick that time?" 

Bond _finally_ met his eyes, and Q thought he could see stubborn defiance in there along with… something.

"I won't apologise for making the decisions I do on missions, Q. Following my gut is why I've stayed alive this long. But I _do_ realise that my going off… _half-cocked_ is… stressful, for the people who have to explain it."

"So the souvenirs are…" Q prompted, pretty sure he knew where this was going, now.

"They're a reminder that I will continue to infuriate you, and an apology for the stress."

Q let that sink in for a moment. 

And then he started laughing.

"You bought M that sculpture because he called you a wanker last time you made the papers, didn't you?" 

Bond smirked and nodded at him. 

Well, as reasons went, it was better than “I stole the prototype that wasn’t signed off for field usage yet because it was shiny and here is some fancy tea to replace it because, oh yes, I broke it,” but only just. 

Q shrugged, deciding that it was better to let the double-ohs keep their thought processes to themselves, and passed over the slim box. Bond quirked his brow at Q, obviously trying to guess what sort of inappropriate gift Q would give him, then opened the box.

Bond’s jaw _actually_ dropped. Q gave himself a mental pat on the back. The agent tentatively picked up the pen, turning it over in his hands. Q was proud of his own ingenuity. The ballpoint pen was retractable, peeking out of the tip when clicked. He’d even added veins for a better grip. 

If the penis pen had a few other tricks, well, Bond would figure those out in due course. 

“Be careful with that, 007,” Q said, in his most official Quartermaster voice. “You wouldn’t want it to explode. It makes quite a mess.”


End file.
